All I want is you
by Grissomsgirl
Summary: Sara/Grissom GSR
1. All I want is You

Sara Sidle lay awake gazing at the alarm clock. Its luminescent red digits glared back at  
  
her that it was five twenty three. Little more than a half hour of bliss before having to  
  
return to normality she thought. The sun was coming up, and the window blind allowed  
  
a rectangular shaft of warm sunlight to blaze through the window and rest peacefully on  
  
the brown, muscular form that was the back of her husband Gil. He was blissfully  
  
unaware of its presence, sound asleep, his rhythmic breathing lulling Sara. This was her  
  
favourite time of the day. It had been ever since she married Gil seven years ago. He,  
  
always the more fitful sleeper of the two, would lie on while she busied herself with the  
  
necessities of her early morning life, her vital two-mile run before breakfast, organising  
  
and finalising meetings for the day ahead, phoning what at times seemed like every one  
  
in the phone book, and all of this before showering and dressing. After she showered  
  
and dressed she would take over feeding and dressing their eight-month old baby  
  
daughter Maura.  
  
Five twenty four she thought. She changed her focus to Gil. His face cuddled into his  
  
pillow, powerful arms under his head, and his mop of curly salt and pepper hair  
  
curtaining his face. His face was the perfect combination of boyish grace and taut  
  
rugged maleness. There wasn't a shadow of doubt in her mind that he was the single  
  
greatest human being she had ever encountered. She didn't love this man, she adored  
  
everything about him. His humour, tenderness, focus and determination, what he  
  
sacrificed every single day for her. There was no one like Gil Grissom.  
  
She met him her final year at university, she was twenty-four, the youngest to graduate  
  
her masters class. He was a guest lecturer, thirty-six, and unhappy about giving yet  
  
another entimology lecture to a group of students who more often than not couldn't  
  
care less. They had no appreciation or concept of how demanding the world of forensics  
  
was, they wanted an easy life, and teaching biology to the fourteen year olds was as hard  
  
as it was going to get for them. All that was except Sara Sidle. That was the day that she  
  
fell in love with both a man and a career, dumped the idea of teaching applied maths  
  
and physics, and knew she wanted to become a crime scene investigator.  
  
Gil Grissom entered the lecture theatre, five eleven, blue eyed, bronzed by the sun, mop  
  
of curly salt and pepper hair, khaki pants, a tight black polo shirt, topped off with steel-  
  
rimmed spectacles. Sara straightened up in her seat dumbfounded by the sheer physical  
  
presence of the man. His confidence in both himself and his knowledge was  
  
overwhelming. Sex appeal oozed from every pore of his body. The next forty- five  
  
minutes wear a blur, each time Gil adjusted his spectacles his bicep bulged over the t-  
  
shirt. No man in her twenty-four years had ever had this affect on her.  
  
"Well good morning to you Mrs Grissom, how are you?" His question caught her off  
  
guard. She grinned "Better for seeing you, can I have a kiss?" she whispered.  
  
"Ah now, you see there's a toll charge for that kind of thing before six am" he said in  
  
mock serenity.  
  
"Well now, being that I'm married to a very wealthy forensics investigator, I think I can  
  
afford a toll.what do I owe?" she breathed while sliding her hand beneath the covers  
  
over his naked muscular thighs, which was always guaranteed to drive him up the wall.  
  
She then tenderly traced the outline of the bulge that was appearing within his boxers.  
  
Gil sighed deeply his back arching slightly to rub against her touch. "I believe lip service  
  
is the going rate," he giggled. Together they slipped off his boxer shorts while she kissed  
  
and teased at his chest. Slowly he slipped his hands around her waist, using his fingers  
  
and thumbs to gently massage her. Their mouths met, her tongue ever hungry for his,  
  
traced his lips and then teasingly darted in and out of his warm sweet mouth. Gil felt  
  
himself harden still. Wanting to respond to her he pulled her on top of him allowing her  
  
to rub against him, her breathing quickened and with a slip of his hands Gil removed  
  
the t-shirt she was wearing tossing it to the floor, ironically it was one of his. Outsized,  
  
baggy and of his own scent, few things aroused him more than the sight of Sara clad in  
  
his cast offs. She now straddled him naked, beautiful. He could feel her wetness pouring  
  
over his now rock hard arousal, and with one move of her hips she slid him inside. They  
  
rocked together; painfully slow at first as Gil ran his hands into her hair while sucking  
  
at her now full breasts. She groaned. In their seven years as lovers he had perfected this  
  
to a near art form. "Fuck me Gil, please fuck me," she breathed in his ear. With that he  
  
forced her onto her back and held her down, moving deeper inside with each thrust. She  
  
looked up at the blue of his eyes, the need, the want reflected in them. "I love you so  
  
much Sara.", he breathed before climaxing. The two of them lay entwined, soaked in  
  
one anothers sweat and shaking. "You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" was all  
  
that he could muster under his breath.  
  
She smiled the smile that Gil knew was reserved only for him.  
  
Sara blinked back warm salted tears as her alarm screeched in her ear. She was  
  
dragged kicking and screaming from her slumber to reality. She bit at her lip agonizing  
  
over what felt, tasted and smelled so real.  
  
"I don't know how much longer I can do this..." she breathed.  
  
Pulling herself from bed and heading for the shower before she had to start yet another  
  
shift working for a man she had become completely intoxicated by, but who was  
  
permanently oblivious to Sara and her feelings. 


	2. All I Want is You

Chapter 2 is here guys! This is my first fanfic ever so please read and review, if it sucks say so..I want to here constructive criticism!  
  
People I do not own the characters of CSI, they belong entirely to the nice people at CBS. I'm just playing with them! I do this neither for profit or gain of any kind financially..it's just for the craic!  
  
  
  
Gil Grissom stood beneath the flow of water in the shower, feeling it cascade down  
  
his body, the water as hot as he could bear it. His mind drifting from thought to  
  
thought. His work load this week, phone calls to return, paper work to be finalised for  
  
Jim Brass, the autopsies, the press intrusion in his latest case, the death, the disease,  
  
the way in which human beings can be so filthy toward one another....  
  
"Enough!" he screamed out loud. Then the tears started. In his forty-six years he knew  
  
that he could count on one hand the number of times he had cried.  
  
His father and mothers funerals, the day he received his PhD and neither of his  
  
parents lived to see it, and the night he went home from work with the belief that Sara  
  
Sidle was going to leave Las Vegas, and consequently leave him?  
  
"This is too much for one man to take," he thought. For maybe the first time in his life  
  
he felt truly alone.  
  
  
  
And there it was. That feeling in the pit of his stomach that reminded him that he was  
  
just a man. An ordinary man. He didn't love Sara, he adored her. Everything about  
  
her. The way she could argue her way out of a bag if she wanted to. Her tenderness,  
  
the way she could look at Grissom as though he were the only man alive, the only  
  
thing that mattered to her. Her voice, her touch, her smell were intoxicating, he  
  
laughed in spite of himself thinking of that Joni Mitchell song. "I could drink a case  
  
of you, and still be on my feet, I could still be on my feet." He would gladly drink a  
  
case of Sara. There was that ache again, the knowing full well that she could never be  
  
his that she would never see him in the same light as he saw her.  
  
Running soap over his chest and arms he thought of the night she stood before him  
  
and touched his face. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull her to him. "It's just  
  
chalk" she had said. Her touch, like liquid electric velvet caressing his cheek.  
  
Gil felt the throb from his groin and caressed it in his hand. Thinking only of Sara, her  
  
hair, the thought of her encircled in his arms in the darkness of his bedroom. Her  
  
teasing at his mouth with her own, as he buried his hands in her hair. He shuddered as  
  
the release coursed through him. It was then that the ebbs of guilt washed over him.  
  
"You're her superior, chronologically and otherwise, and this is how you respect her  
  
trust in you?" He cleaned himself off, shut off the water, and stepped from the shower  
  
and towelled himself dry. It was then that he caught a glance of himself in the  
  
bathroom mirror. "Do I really look that old at forty-six?" he said.  
  
"When was I so busy living a life that I forgot to enjoy one?" Shaking his head he  
  
walked to the bedroom and pulled on his favourite blue shirt, for some reason it  
  
reminded him of Sara. 


	3. All I Want Is You

Chapter 3  
  
I do not own CSI, U2 or Joni Mitchell. I do not receive any profit from this, financial or otherwise.  
  
  
  
Grissom stole a glance at his wristwatch; it was a little after eight thirty pm.  
  
"Not long now till the others start filtering in," he thought, "maybe an hour at most."  
  
He tried to focus on the report he was reading, suicide pact of a fifteen- year old girl  
  
and a seventeen year old boy. Their parents wouldn't let them be together so they  
  
overdosed on Codeine, bought by the boy, all perfectly legal from a pharmacy. He  
  
went to four different stores to get the right amount. Grissom shook his head, "they  
  
were just babies." He drank down the dregs of his coffee and got up in search of  
  
another fix.  
  
The lab was not particularly busy tonight. Reaching the coffee pot he heard a familiar  
  
song, one of his favourites in fact, it was filtering through from the conference room,  
  
so loud it could be heard through the closed, heavy glass door.  
  
  
  
"Slight of hand and twist of fate  
  
On a bed of nails she makes me wait  
  
And I wait..without you"  
  
  
  
Peering through the glass door he saw Sara, passed out on the conference room couch.  
  
Photographs in hand, lab analysis for their suicide case strewn to the four winds  
  
across the floor. She was exhausted. If he had been here since eight, two hours before  
  
his shift was about to start, when in the hell did she get here? Grissom couldn't help  
  
but grin. "Only Sara could sleep through Bono and clan screaming their hearts out".  
  
He pushed open the door, tongue out, aiding his concentration in an attempt not to  
  
disturb her. He reached the stereo and turned it down slightly.  
  
  
  
"With or without you  
  
I can't live with or without you"  
  
  
  
He stole a glance at Sara's sleeping form, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. He felt  
  
that all too familiar ache in his own chest. The one that reminded him of all the  
  
missed opportunities, words and actions, a devotion applied to his work and science  
  
that he would now gladly give away for just one chance to be with this woman.  
  
Sara shifted onto her side bringing Grissom back to reality. He realised how long he  
  
had be standing staring at her, and felt guilty, thinking of his shower before work he  
  
began to blush. He dropped to his knees, put down the coffee mug and started to put  
  
her work into some type of order.  
  
Sara came to and woke up to a face full of curls. "What is this?" Then she realised  
  
where she was, and who she was looking at. The top of Grissom's head, just an inch  
  
or two from her face. She could smell his shampoo he was so close. The fabric  
  
softener he used on his shirt, and something else that was just Grissom.  
  
She blushed thinking of her dream. It was always her fear that he could sense  
  
something like that off of her. Like the way bees and dogs could smell fear. Gris was  
  
so good at his job, what if he knew how she felt?! She would be mortified.  
  
"Gris, you don't have to do that" she hated having to disturb him, but she had to  
  
distance herself from him, he was to close for comfort.  
  
"Don't be silly I'm almost done, here" and he handed her the file.  
  
"I didn't know you liked U2" he was trying to fill the embarrassing pause that had  
  
formed. He knew what she was thinking. "She sees me as this dirty old man"  
  
"Yeh, I love them, it's Bono I love really. A guy that can express the way he feels  
  
about a women is a big turn on for me." Sara cringed at what she had said. "God did I  
  
just say that?" She thought.  
  
"Musically, I mean..it's a turn on musically." she quickly followed with.  
  
"And here I thought it was just a love song, I didn't realise they had that affect on  
  
you!" Grissom chimed in. Her hair was mussed up giving her a completely different  
  
look, Grissom started to wonder what it would be like to wake up with her.  
  
"So you like them as well then?" she asked. He nodded and grinned.  
  
"You say you want your love to work out right, to last with me through the night, all the promises we make from the cradle to the grave, when all I want..is you."  
  
"Do you want some coffee, I just poured it?" He handed her his mug.  
  
Sara knew that her jaw had dropped to the floor. His mouth when he spoke was  
  
intoxicating, he had taken off his glasses, his eyes as clear as she had ever seen them.  
  
He looked beautiful. "What did you just say?"  
  
"Do you want some coffee?" he repeated. "No, before, that line what's that from?"  
  
"Oh", he grinned again, "All I want is you." It's my favourite song of theirs".  
  
"His mug", Sara thought and she took it from him.  
  
"I need your full analysis of the crime scene before ten thirty Sara, Brass wants this  
  
closed as quickly as possible."  
  
And with that he was gone. She watched him leave, his strong shoulders and arms  
  
tight against the fabric of his shirt. The last time she saw him wear that was when the  
  
were investigating a kidnapping. The eventually found the victim buried alive, within  
  
a crate in the desert. After they freed the victim, Grissom had taken her face in his  
  
hands. She wanted to pull him to her. Aching to feel the brush of his mouth against  
  
hers, to be taken care of, someone to chase away her fears at night. How could he be  
  
so open and then so closed off. She held his coffee mug against her chest, lifted the  
  
report and started what was going to be very long shift.  
  
Grissom practically ran back to his office. She was in their now drinking from his  
  
mug! "How old are you Gil, fourteen? Get over this!" He chastised himself.  
  
She was only down the hall but it felt like a lifetime away. It was going to be a very  
  
blong shift. 


End file.
